Son Coeur Brisé
by stress
Summary: Translation: her broken heart. [SARAH ANGST] They didn’t think I knew about Jack. I did.
1. MAIS JE SAVAIS DÉJÀ

_Author's note: Wow, a Sarah piece. I have never even thought that I would be writing a Sarah piece. But, times change and I feel a kinship with the character. It's not easy being the only girl, no? Anyway, I couldn't resist. What would Sarah do if Jack cheated on her? _Son Coeur Brisé, _my interpretation in three parts._ _Let the first part begin. – Stress _

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_**Son Coeur Brisé  
**_(_Her broken heart_)

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_And every time I've held a rose  
It seems I only felt the thorns  
And so it goes, and so it goes  
And so will you soon I suppose_

I. **MAIS JE SAVAIS DÉJÀ  
**(_but_ _I already knew)_

They didn't think I knew but I did. And, even if I didn't, the piteous gazes they gave me when Jack's attention was elsewhere occupied told me the entire story. They felt sorry for me but their loyalty to the _great_ Manhattan leader kept them from saying anything out loud. But that was fine.

_I already knew._

I'm not too sure when I first began to suspect that he was being unfaithful. The first few weeks following the strike were great. But as the long summer nights gave way to the autumn chill, I felt Jack's embrace begin to slacken. He no longer clung to me like a lost child that feared I would disappear should he loosen his hold.

The nights in between his visits to my family's apartment became many. As a rule I never sought him out down on Duane Street. "You're too classy a dame to be there," he told me once. _Classy?_ Hardly. _Naïve?_ Maybe. _Stupid?_ Not at all.

A persistent nag at the back of my mind started to make itself known. For every suspicion it voiced, I supplied it with an excuse for Jack's newly erratic behavior. When he arrived at my home, his hair disheveled and his shirt buttons askew, it was obviously because he had been in a rush to see me that night. When we stole away to the rooftop for a quick peck and his breath murmured another name, I had just heard wrong.

Jack Kelly was a dreamer who had given up on his dream to stay here with me. I couldn't believe at first that he would throw it all away for some two-bit floozy.

_Would he?_

The nagging persistence became a pressure that continued to build. It needed release. In order to find such a release I turned to the one confidante of Jack's that wouldn't lie to me. David, even when we were children, could never lie to me.

And it was in his eyes. In those crystal blue eyes I saw the truth. He smiled sadly when I implored him to answer to my suspicions. "He really does love you, Sarah."

_Love_. As if Jack Kelly really understood what love was. I was lucky enough he understood mild infatuation.

I saw her, too. And I would have been far better off if I had never seen her face.

They were together that day; that's how I know it was her. And even if I hadn't chanced upon the pair mid-embrace I would have known. The woman scorned _always_ knows.

_Did he ever look at me like that?_

I was out running an errand for my mother. She had needed extra potatoes for supper that night on the chance that Jack joined us. It had been a month since the strike ended; she figured she would make a special dinner to celebrate. I obliged her and went to the market.

It was across the street for the market that my eyes spied them. I don't know what it was about them that caught my attention. Perhaps it was the peals of laughter she was emitting as he tickled her. Or it could have been that they were kissing in public; the actions that went against society's expectations always brought a crowd around. I should know.

_Did he ever kiss me like that?_

For a moment I was frozen, my heart was frozen. Do I approach them? My nagging suspicion had been confirmed. Do I confront him?

I could do neither. My heart, iced over, shattered into a million pieces. They stabbed me all over and I felt the pain anew every time I looked his way. His eyes lingered on her lips and he smiled that _smile_. His _smile_. The _smile_ that I fell in love with. The _smile_ that forced the corners of my own mouth down.

I remained on the street opposite of the pair long after they continued on their newspaper selling. Long after they left the market, I remained.

I never bought the potatoes that day. But that was alright…

Jack Kelly never showed for dinner.


	2. SILHOUETTE INCOMPLÈTEMENT PARFAITE

_Author's note: So, Sarah knows. Jack has cheated on her. What will happen next? Will she say something, or will she keep it inside? Does she confront Jack or does she pretend that it never happened in the hope that he will still be there? Read on to see (and, yes, the change in POV is intentional)… _Son Coeur Brisé, _my interpretation in three parts._ _Now, the second part. – Stress_

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_**Son Coeur Brisé  
**_(_Her broken heart_)

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_And this is why my eyes are closed  
It's just as well for all I've seen  
And so it goes, and so it goes  
And you're the only one who knows_

II. **SILHOUETTE INCOMPLÈTEMENT PARFAITE**

(_imperfectly_ _perfect silhouette_)

Sarah sat at her window. She sat there, purposely brushing her long dark hair forward to hide her tear-stained cheeks. It had been three nights she saw _them_. It had been three nights. Jack had yet to call for her.

This, of course, was a good thing.

It had taken those three days for the truth to be fully comprehended. She finally understood. Jack had cheated on her. He had found another girl.

That first day she felt numb. The initial pain she experienced as her heart shattered faded into an eerie indifference. What did it matter, really, if he found another girl? She did not own him; he was not her property. He belonged to the streets of New York and it would them that eventually claimed him. It had been foolishly naïve of her to assume that she could change that. She should have known better.

Why, then, did she spend that sleepless night envisioning him intertwined with that girl. _Her_.

The second day she felt hatred, sheer hatred that would have frightened her if she wasn't so angry. The cold numbness melted away as her emotions blazed. She paced up and down the apartment building steps, fuming inside, until she found herself atop the roof. And then she hated even more.

She hated him for doing this to her, for making her feel this way. She had silently passed her heart into his hands that first dinner he shared with her family and all he did was squeeze. And she hated him for it.

_I hate him_.

Her face flashed before Sarah's eyes. Though she had only seen her the one time, her image was burned in Sarah's memory. Every curl, every freckle, her very essence was vivid. She had taken Jack from Sarah – she would never be forgotten.

_I hate her_.

But, of them all, she hated herself the most. _Perfect Sarah Jacobs, _she taunted, _so darn perfect that she'll let anyone walk right on her. 'That's OK, Jack. Go and dally with that girl behind my back. I don't mind. I'll just wait here by my window until you grace me with your presence.'_ It was her fault, too. More, really, because she let it happen. She could have confronted them then but she didn't. She was silent.

Silence was her self-defense.

_I hate me._

But the third day, the third day was utter grief. The tears came and fell almost without her realizing it. She hardly noticed when her brothers left for their selling or when they returned later that day. She remained curled on her bed, crying. She spoke to no one if they approached her. They all wondered what was wrong the normally smiling girl but only David thought he knew. The rest of the family eventually left her to her sorrow in favor of their supper. Nothing they could say would move her from her window side.

She cried straight through the evening. With every tear she shed it was as if a piece of her heart was recovered. It would not heal immediately but it was a beginning.

Her mother came to her side shortly after the sun had set for the night. She brought Sarah her supper and sat in on her nightstand. Sarah barely registered her presence.

Esther Jacobs looked sadly upon her daughter. She recognized Sarah's current disposition; she had, after all, been a young girl once herself. She, too, knew what it felt like to have her heart broken. Sarah would recover from this devastation, she knew. Now it was her job, as her mother, to help her realize that.

But Sarah didn't want that realization. In her pain, it was hard for her to remember that she was not the first girl in this situation; hers was not the first heart to break. She denied her mother's advice and turned her face away. Esther lovingly patted Sarah's long brown hair and kissed her goodnight. She would try again tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, her daughter would be prepared to listen to some sort of reason.

The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes to hours and, eventually, no more tears came. The apartment was quiet with only the softly muffled snores of her family keeping her awake. She no longer was lying on her bed. Sleep was eluding her, she knew it, so she sat up and stared up at the moon. It was strangely calming.

So focused on the tranquil beauty of the moon, Sarah wasn't aware of her visitor at first. But the step of the fire escape creaked and her attention was brought back to the earth. Just outside of her window, silhouetted against the moon, was a young man.

_Jack_.

The fragile heart she had fought to piece back together for the past three days crumbled and fell away. He had come for her. As if nothing was wrong, and everything was right, he had come for her.

Her breath caught in her throat and she rested her hands on the window ledge. He smiled at her through the glass, obviously surprised that he had found her awake. He told her once before that he enjoyed watching her sleep. He never stayed over at the Jacobs' apartment but found it soothing to sleep on the fire escape outside her window, waiting for her to wake up in the morning. He said it made him feel content; he never asked to come inside. She felt loved and safe every time she had she found him out there; she never invited him in.

This time was different. She needed to prove to herself that he was there for her. While it was easy to act indifferent when she just suspected that he was cheating, it had nearly destroyed her to see him with another girl. Deep down she had held onto the hope that it was all a misunderstanding. And here he was, at her window, intending to watch over her, to be with her.

Their eyes locked and, under the light of the night's moon, she saw his lips curl upwards. Her own mouth betrayed her and did the same. She slowly lifted the window pane and continued to look at him. Without a word, she gestured for him to come inside. He climbed in and wrapped her in his arms. She didn't say anything to him. She couldn't.

Silence is her self-defense.


	3. ET DONC IL VA

_Author's note: And the time has come for this brief vignette to come to a close. Sarah has learned of Jack's indiscretions and has had to face it; she betrayed her common sense and invited him back in. But is all forgiven? Read on to find out… _Son Coeur Brisé, _my interpretation in three parts._ _Introducing: the final part. – Stress  
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_**Son Coeur Brisé  
**_(_Her broken heart_)

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_So I would choose to be with you  
That's if the choice were mine to make  
But you can make decisions too  
And you can have this heart to break_

III. **ET DONC IL VA**

(_and_ _so it goes)_

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. _Jack was gone_. The last thing I remembered was leading Jack over to my bed while still wrapped up in his embrace. He hesitantly sat down upon it. I pressed against him until we were both on our backs, me in my nightgown, him in his street clothes – shoes and all. I placed my head on his dusty vest and listened to the quickened pace of his heart. He awkwardly patted my head; the gesture was innocent and soothing. I fell asleep immediately, my fragile trust seemingly restored.

When I awoke, and he was gone, I wondered if it had all been a dream. The window was open but could be easily explained. I might have grown hot during the night and opened it for a breath of fresh air.

However, the muddy prints at the foot of my bed indicated otherwise. He was gone. And the window was open. Jack had escaped through the same open passage that had lent him entry.

And I was alone.

_Alone_.

But not quite alone as I had been three days ago. Three days ago I believed that my suspicions concerning Jack had been confirmed. I caught him in the arms of another girl that day and my heart shattered. But now – now I had Jack. He hadn't turned to her last night. Maybe he never had.

I was almost certain that Jack would come back to my window that night. He chose me, after all. He must have just been eager to sell his newspapers that morning. I knew the ways of the orphans. Not many of them had a family and home like the one I was privy to.

I didn't worry then. I kept my mind on the feel of his arms and the warmth he brought with him when he had laid by my side.

_He chose me_.

So, when my mother asked another favor of me – to deliver a basket of lace, freshly tatted – I readily agreed. After my behavior for the past few days I knew I owed her.

I began my walk on the New York street with a spring in my step that had been missing since I saw Jack with that other girl. My gait was lighter for I was the one he went back to. I had not begged to be loved – he had offered his affection.

I see now how very foolish I had been assuming that Jack was innocent. How could a liar ever be innocent?

I had let him back into my heart – and into my home – because I thought he chose me. I saw, at that moment, how very wrong I had been.

Again, I saw them without them knowing I was there. They were quiet preoccupied, after all, with grasping at each other within the confines of the alley across from the shop.

My mouth twisted downward and I clenched the handle of the lace basket so tight that my fingers turned white. The anger I felt after I had spied the pair the first time seemed tame to the torrent of emotion that coursed through me then. I had invited him into my bed and he _still_ went back to her.

I was a fool.

He was a cheater.

And I knew.

I waited for the tears to come but they never came. I waited for my delicate heart to break but it remained in tact.

Jack Kelly was a cheater – and I could do much better. I _would_ do much better.

_But first…_

"Jack?" I replaced my jaded expression with an overly cheerful smile and called out to him. I remained on my side of the street and waved jovially, aiming to garner the attention of the necking pair.

At the sound of his name, he pulled away, leaving his arm around the girl's shoulder and glanced out from the alley. He shielded his eyes and glanced across the street. The handsome smirk he continually wore slid off of his face when his chocolate eyes made contact with mine. I held the gaze a moment longer and widened my grin. "Thanks for last night," I said and blew him a kiss. Then, on a whim, I whirled the hem of my skirt around my ankles. "Though, next time, try to take your shoes off first. My sheets are ruined…"

The look on the girl's face made everything I went through _almost_ worth it all. She looked at me, then at him, at me again, then back at him, trying to make sense of what I was saying. It seemed to take her a moment before she understood. Her face turned scarlet and she pushed his arm off of her shoulder. Before he could react, she had shoved him hard and stalked away.

The look on his face definitely made it worth it. He recovered from his near-fall and followed the girl briefly with his eyes before turning to look at me. I lost the phony smile and stared back. It was a hard gaze and I could see that, for once, the great Jack Kelly was at a loss for words.

I walked away, then. He let me go just as he had let the other girl get away. I didn't look back.

He really hadn't thought that I knew. But I did.

Let someone else's heart break this time.


End file.
